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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25594900">Friendship, Free Will, and the Consequences of Overthinking</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomW07/pseuds/RandomW07'>RandomW07</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Study, Friendship, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:35:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,184</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25594900</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomW07/pseuds/RandomW07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a peaceful summer morning is disturbed by an innocent question with unpleasant implications.</p><p>What is friendship in the eyes of a nation? And how much free will is involved when it comes to forging the relationships they hold dear?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Friendship, Free Will, and the Consequences of Overthinking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the Hetalia Monday Challenge on Tumblr, for the "World Friendship Day" prompt (July 20th). Cross-posted here for the poor soul who can't access Tumblr at the moment. Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Are we friends?"</p><p>Norway raised an eyebrow. The early morning sun warmed his face, cutting through the lingering chill of the previous night. Birdsong rang out all around him, the high-pitched cries not yet muddled by the excited squeals of children eager to go swimming in the lake. Beneath his bare feet, the earth was cracked and dry, almost devoid of grass. Still ants scuttled to and fro, carrying crumbs from yesterday's dinner in their jaws. Most mornings, he would watch them with great interest, sipping at his coffee, mind free to wake up in its own time. This morning, however, Denmark seemed determined to sever his peace and quiet with troublesome questions Norway loathed to answer.</p><p>It was rare to see Denmark like this. Wild and carefree, content with who he was, with <em>what</em> he was, he rarely worried about the subtle implications of nationhood. Even on days when the clouds painted the world in a layer of grey, Denmark's smile shone brighter than the sun. Why did it matter <em>why</em> he existed? He simply existed, and that was enough for him.</p><p>Some days, however, uncertainty sowed seeds of doubt in his mind. Insecurity left deep gashes across his heart from a long history of war and violence, of loss and eventual loneliness. In these moments, he sought comfort in the man he had known the longest, the nation he felt closest to - comfort Norway could never seem to give.</p><p>Friendship. Such a strange concept for beings like them. Norway thought of the countless humans Denmark had added to his contacts list over the year. Teenagers he'd met at concerts, young people he'd shared a few beers with at the bar, wives and husbands of diplomats and government officials, elderly people he'd chatted with in the park... every one of them found a special place in the Dane's heart. At least once a week, he invited them over for dinner, out for drinks, never tiring of their presence. And yet, Norway couldn't help but wonder about the true nature of their relationship. Could these humans really be considered Denmark's friends? Above all else, they were his people, the cells that transported oxygen to his heart. They adored him like a creation adored its creator. He adored them as though they were his own flesh and blood - which, in a sense, they were. Could such a bond truly be considered friendship?</p><p>Norway preferred to avoid mingling with humanity whenever he could get away with it. Not much point in forming a friendship with such transient beings. They didn't live long. Better to avoid the pain of losing a loved one, really. Even those who roamed the earth after their death became nothing more than mere whispers after a while, sad creatures with no reason to exist. Besides, only a select few could be aware of his status. How could he explain why he never seemed to age? What lies would he have had to weave to protect his true identity? No, it was better if he distanced himself from his people. Though he loved them dearly, they were merely extensions of his body, not his friends.</p><p>What about nations, though? Could Norway say with certainty that he and Denmark were friends? Once, maybe. When foolishness had run through his veins instead of cynicism, he would have answered yes without a moment's hesitation. When his body had still been that of a child's, he had thought it possible to separate politics from his own free will, his own desires. Now, however, he scoffed at such naivety, centuries of history proof of the contrary.</p><p>He could still remember the loathing that had poisoned his mind during their union. Hours spent fervently wishing Denmark's guts would be spilled in battle, praying for a swing of a sword to cut Sweden's head clean off. He recalled hissing at them to tear each otter into pieces, exhausted of playing mediator, hurt only his land mattered to their leaders. Frustration had boiled over, partly his own, mostly fuelled by his government, his people, the ever-shifting borders of his country.  </p><p>Their attitudes towards each other were dictated by politics. Their emotions were governed by their people. What was freedom, if not an illusion centuries of suffering had instilled in them as truth?</p><p>"Nor?"</p><p>How long had he been lost in his thoughts? Long enough for Denmark to sense his hesitation, to dread his answer. Why couldn't Norway quell his concerns with a spontaneous lie? He yearned to dismiss his worries as utter nonsense, but he was too old, too tired, to grant him false hope. Instead, he made a feeble attempt to avoid the question.</p><p>"Bit early for these kind of questions, don't you think?"</p><p>Denmark's mouth twisted into an ugly frown. He shrugged, an attempt to hide his disappointment.</p><p>"I mean, it <em>is</em> International Friendship Day today. Thought it was as good a time to ask as any."</p><p>Ah, world friendship day. Another human custom Norway would never understand. He hummed as though he did, cast his gaze to the pitch opposite theirs, trying to buy some time. A group of children - two siblings and two friends, from the looks of them - were emerging from the massive tent's entrance. The tallest of the bunch spun a colourful ball in her hands, shrill voice listing out the rules of the game they were about to play. How simple it was for them! Perhaps their parents or a teacher had pushed them together, but their feelings towards each other depended only on themselves. Norway secretly longed for such freedom.</p><p>"What if you don't like the answer?" he asked.</p><p>He could hear the light clicking of nails against plastic, as Denmark drummed his fingers against his mug.</p><p>"Then I won't like the answer. I won't get mad at you for being honest. You know me better than that."</p><p>Norway remained silent, searching for the right words to convey his feelings. He knew he could be brutally honest at times. Perhaps he should try and be gentle for once. He tested the words in his mind a few times, twisting and turning the sentence until it sounded somewhat decent. He couldn't bring himself to meet Denmark's gaze.</p><p>"If we were humans, I would consider you my closest and dearest friend," he said softly.</p><p>The drumming of fingers on plastic stopped. Even the birds seemed to have ceased singing for a few thundering heartbeats.</p><p>"But we're not humans," Denmark's voice trembled ever so slightly.</p><p>"No," Norway sighed, "we're not."</p><p>Silence stretched between them, uncomfortable, oppressive. Inside the tent, the sound of a coffee machine beeping back to life alerted them to another nation's presence. Denmark sprang to his feet and dove back into the tent, to greet Finland with false cheer and a fake smile on his face. Norway stared at the bottom of his empty mug. The children's shouts grated at his ears, the thump of the ball as they kicked it back and forth blocking out the birds' pleasant voices. Heart heavy, he pulled himself to his feet.</p><p>There went his peaceful morning.</p>
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